


Stories of the Second Self: Word on the Street

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [84]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22569562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Walter Kovich was on his back back to Yasmin's stone commune when he is suddenly thrown into the trunk of a car. Unsure who kidnapped him, Walter discovers that he is brought before the boss of Silverton, Papa Delane Henry. Confronted by the fact he was practicing glyph magic, Walter at first things Papa Henry wants to punish him for vandalism. He learns instead that the cost to settle up will be to teach Papa Henry this craft.
Series: Alter Idem [84]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Word on the Street

What exactly happened Walter didn't know. One minute he was walking back from the store to the stone-rise around dusk and the next there was this opened car trunk coming at him real fast. His forehead would've smacked the trunk floor but for his antlers taking the hit.

In a panic to get out, Walter scrambled, but the trunk was slammed down and broke off one of his antler tips. In the dark, as the car squealed away with Walter inside, he felt at the antler break and found a slow-moving ooze. Weaving an illumination spell, Walter was surprised to see that it was blood, though there was a slight granular feel to it. He wondered if that meant his perfect ten-point antlers were ruined for life.

After almost an hour the car skidded to a halt. The trunk opened and a pair of rough, strong, and surprisingly warm hands pulled him out. By now, night had fallen, which in January meant it was cold as hell. A pair of hands picked Walter up like he was nothing. They exuded so much body heat, it was like the guy had been holding his hands over a space heater or something.

Laura, Walter's girlfriend was like that, and then it hit him that the guy in the plaid wool shirt also had to have been a werewolf. He was huge, with the kind of mustache and beard that made Walter think of a lumberjack.

"Delane, he's here," a silky woman's voice announced.

Looking around at what seemed like a loading dock to a store or other building, Walter saw a woman with raven black hair, solid black eyes, sallow cheeks, and deathly pale complexion. She wore an orange and yellow skintight dress and heels, though from her muscular build and sharp facial features, Walter got the sense she was more dangerous than the bearded werewolf.

Two angels, also buff and tall, stepped out from a back entrance in advance. Behind them exited someone from a Peter Jackson movie. Many layers of tattered black robes billowed and waved despite the absence of wind. Spires of an iron crown rose menacingly high, and on the figure's hands were metal gauntlets with long steel claws stretching from the index and middle fingers.

"Walter Kovich." The voice of the Lich King dude was like a cold wind passing through dead trees, and put a shiver up Walter's already chilled spine.

"Oh, shit," Walter gasped, "Alter Idem made your ass real?"

"Hey, guy," the werewolf addressed him with an Arkansas accent. "Now's a good time to show some respect. You're before Papa Henry, and that's how you will address him."

"Well Delane," the vampire woman spoke to Papa Henry. "What do you think?"

"Shit," Walter exclaimed when the metal hand reached out and clamped onto his face.

"Who broke his antler?" bid that hollow breezy voice.

"I apologize, Papa Henry," the werewolf replied, eyeing Walter up and down. "Little jack rabbit tried to hop out the trunk before I could close it."

"It is of no matter," Papa Henry whispered loudly and waved his other hand to dismiss the issue. "It will grow back."

Walter's relief showed on his face, but then the cosplaying Papa Henry hefted him off the ground by his neck. Walter clutching at the armored wrist dreading what the contact might do based on the movie portrayal. Yet, he only felt winter cold from the contact. He struggled on feeling his airway become restricted.

"Oh," came a much lighter and cheery voice, before Papa Henry suddenly let go. "I forgot ya'all need ta breathe. Where are ma manners?" and then he flung a casual hand up. "Fly girls?"

Two more women came out, one of them a voluptuous Cernnunos Fae with five-point antlers, and the other was a short delicate-looking angel with earthy brown hair. They came to Papa Henry's sides and slid off his gauntlets with caressing touches. Underneath the wicked steel protection, Walter saw grayed hands of a black man with rings on his pinkies and ring fingers.

Taking his Lich King crown off, Papa Henry revealed his well kept dreadlocks, capped with gold bands on the ends, a carefully managed mustache, and short beard. Like the vampire woman, Papa Henry's eyes were solid black and his teeth all sharp with inward curves.

"So," Papa Henry spoke again with what Walter took to be his normal enthusiasm. "You're the fellow runnin' around drawing glyphs in here 'n there."

"Ah, look man," Walter said, before feeling that firm and warm hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Kid," the werewolf said, "I told you. Proper. Respect. You will not forget again."

"Shit, I'm sorry," Walter pleaded with the outdoorsy howler, and then returned his attention to the vampire man. "Papa Henry, I really didn't mean anything by it. I was practicing."

"Practicing what, I wonder?" he lightly asked, though tilted his head in warning. "I know your glyphs impart essence where they're drawn."

Searching every face studying him, Walter pleaded with the back alley court. "Hey, it's just to help nature 'n stuff. Really, it's nothin'!"

"Nothing doesn't crack the sidewalk in front of my hotel," Papa Henry said, and started removing the rest of his robes.

"Oh," Walter realized that instant, "The tree. Fuck! I can fix that. I really can!"

"Tell me how you'll do that," Papa Henry insisted with receptionist charm.

"They... they work on stone too," Walter stammered, and looked to the werewolf. "It's just about what the glyph reads. I'm still learning, but I think it's like a constant conjuration, as though you were chanting twenty-four, seven."

"I like him, Delane," the vampire woman said, tilting her head. "He's cooperative and eager to please."

"I won't do it again," Walter begged, and noticed the vampire woman take a step, and held up his agitated hands. "Or... or I will-- if that's what you want. Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"Who taught you these glyphs?" Papa Henry asked, and sat down on a chair just brought out for him.

Walter covered his mouth with his hand, and then rubbed at his forehead, as his anxiety rose. "Her name's Yasmin. She's one of those Gaia cult members from Columbus. You know, before the army guys took back the city. She... she's got this tunnel where all this shit's growin' and fairy-like fireflies are giving off sunlight."

"Sunlight, is it?" Papa Henry's haunting power voice returned, as he leaned forward with interest.

"I don't think Yasmin's doin' it to start a fight with vampires, but--," Walter paused, realizing he didn't actually know why Yasmin came to Cincinnati and started taking in people to her grown-stone building.

Another dismissive wave, and Papa Henry dialed his creepy dead voice down, as though he was satisfied. "Alright Ellsa, he lives. Set him up a room, and he'll start teaching what he knows when I get back from my business trip."

"Sure thing, Delane," the vampire woman replied, and looked to the werewolf. "Get him inside, and get word out onto the street to keep a watch for people inquiring of his whereabouts."

"Yeap," the plaid shirt wearing werewolf answered, "I'm on it."

Walter was pushed toward the door that Papa Henry and company exited from. His mouthed silently to himself, "I'm sorry, Yasmin."


End file.
